


I Didn’t Have Much Money So I Stole You A Rose

by booksnchocolate



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Marianas Trench, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Matt needs to figure his shit out, Oh My God, Unresolved Sexual Tension, dumb boys in bands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksnchocolate/pseuds/booksnchocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thinking back, Matt couldn’t pinpoint a moment, <i>the</i> moment when everything had clicked into place. There had never been a time when he looked at the tangle of warm bodies around him and thought <i>yes, this is it, this is us</i>. There were no warning signs that things were about to fall into place – they just had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Didn’t Have Much Money So I Stole You A Rose

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I know none of these people. Written for fun and not profit. 
> 
> **A/N:** GUYS WHERE ARE THE FOB/MT FICS. WHERE ARE THEY. This was written for [Adelia](http://savemasterpiecetheatre.tumblr.com/) because she is lovely and awesome <3 Concrit is LOVELY. 
> 
> Title from Bon Jovi's _Bitter Wine_.

 

How had this even started?

Thinking back, Matt couldn’t pinpoint a moment, _the_ moment when everything had clicked into place. There had never been a time when he looked at the tangle of warm bodies around him and thought _yes, this is it, this is us_. There were no warning signs that things were about to fall into place – they just had.

He remembered the beginning, though. One late-night show in Omaha, some shitty brick-walled venue with barely a thousand seats to its name – and Matt remembered, he remembered the brick walls because they’d been uncomfortable as fuck when Josh had pushed him up against them after the show, sweaty and messy, still high on adrenaline and too eager to wait for the bus. Matt remembered the press of Josh’s hands on his skin, hot and needy and too much and not enough; the feel of Josh’s lips on his jaw, his neck, his mouth – and above all, he remembered the _clang!_ as the metal door flew open against the wall and someone – _two_ someones – tumbled into the room that Josh and Matt were already occupying, thank you very much.

Matt remembered the look on Pete Wentz’s face as he took in the scene: Josh, shirt damp with sweat, sucking a truly impressive hickey onto Matt’s neck; Matt’s hands fisted in Josh’s hair, gasping like he was running a marathon – Matt opened his eyes and caught the tail-end of Pete’s stare, and a strange expression passed across Pete’s face before he turned and dragged the other man – Patrick Stump, Matt remembered – bodily out the door.

“Sucks to be them,” Josh had said, and yanked Matt’s pants down.

The next night, in another shitty venue, Matt walked into Josh’s dressing room to find Josh on his knees, giving a very enthusiastic blowjob to someone who was… definitely not Matt.

“Hey, buddy,” Pete Wentz cracked a lazy smile, carding his fingers through Josh’s hair possessively, voice rough but steady. “How’s it going?”

His voice hitched on the last syllable and Matt knew it was because Josh was doing that thing with his tongue, scraping it up the underside of Pete’s dick. Matt saw red. He started forward, hands balled into fists, but Josh’s voice stopped him.

“Matt,” he said pulling his lips away enough to speak. There was a thread of drool clinging from his lips to Pete’s dick. Matt couldn’t help but stare.  Josh was still speaking. “Can you just-” he waved his hand (the one that wasn’t _in his pants_ , Matt noticed), “just go wait outside for a bit.”

It wasn’t a question. Matt went.

Matt could laugh about it now – he was an adult, all evidence to the contrary – but he’d stumbled from the dressing room in a blind haze of anger and – dare he say it? – jealousy. Sure, he and Josh had never said anything, had never talked about what they were doing, but Matt had a pretty strict policy of not fooling around when he was, you know, fooling around. It would have been lying to say he’d expected a golden ring and a white wedding from their little arrangement – but he sure as fuck hadn’t expected to find Josh on his knees for another guy less than twenty-four hours after shoving Matt up against a wall and making him come harder than he had when he’d lost his virginity.

Matt stumbled away, fumbling through the back doors of the building. He needed to get out – somewhere he could breathe – anywhere that wasn’t Josh’s dressing room, with Pete’s fingers in Josh’s hair and Josh’s mouth on Pete’s dick. He was so intent on escaping that he didn’t notice when someone appeared in front of him.

He did notice, however, when he collided with said someone head-on.

“Oof!”

“Fuck!” Matt cursed, stumbling backwards and righting himself. “I- sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“No problem,” said the stranger – who was, Matt realized, not so much of a stranger. Patrick Stump looked at him. “You okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,” Matt said, in a tone of voice that said he was most assuredly not. “I just-” He broke off, shifting to move around Patrick but the singer blocked him again.

“Was it Pete?”

“Wha- how did you know?” Matt asked, momentarily taken aback.

Patrick shrugged. “Not that hard to deduce, is it? Pete goes in there ten minutes ago, says he’s looking for Josh; you come out ten minutes later looking like you’re gonna murder someone.”

Matt blinked. “But you – he – last night-”

“Yeah,” Patrick shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “We’re not as – whatever – as some people think we are.” He avoided Matt’s eyes, and Matt thought he looked smaller, somehow, more vulnerable. He felt the anger draining from his system.

After a minute of silence, Patrick spoke again.  “I don’t usually ask, but d’you wanna, like, talk about it?”

Matt licked his lips. “Sure.”

Patrick turned and led him out through the parking lot, weaving expertly between cars and trucks in the dark. He reached the Fall Out Boy tour bus and ushered Matt up the stairs. Matt paused in the front lounge, but Patrick brushed past him, stomping into the rear compartment. “Anybody home?” he hollered. There was no response, and soon he reappeared, gesturing for Matt to sit down.

Matt sat on one of the leather couches, crossing his legs. “So,” he said.

“So,” Patrick echoed, taking a seat beside him. He clasped his hands.

And then, Matt couldn’t stand it any longer. “What the fuck was that?” he burst out, staring at Patrick wild-eyed. “He was – Pete was – _Josh_! How could – I mean, why, I don’t-” He wasn’t making sense, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to stop the jumbled flow of words for the life of him. Just thinking about that scene, the proprietary way Pete had threaded his fingers through Josh’s hair, the casual way Josh had dismissed him, like he wasn’t even worth the breath it took to separate his lips from Pete’s fucking junk – and sure, they hadn’t talked about them or whatever, but there had to be something, right? Like, most people would at least talk to their current fling before resorting to dressing room blowjobs with Pete-fucking-Wentz? 

He didn’t realize he’d said that out loud until Patrick gave him a small, sharp smile. “Oh, hon. If you ever shit-talk Pete again in front of me, you’ll regret it.”

“I-“ Matt opened his mouth to protest, then remembered it was _Patrick_ Pete had pulled into the room two nights ago. He shut his mouth. “Sorry.”

Patrick nodded. “Okay.”

“But I meant the other stuff,” Matt glared, though he knew it was unfair to paint Patrick as the object of his ire; after all, it was Patrick’s boyfriend currently sticking his dick in Josh’s mouth.  Matt felt sick just thinking about it.

“Look,” Patrick said and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I know it sucks when your boyfriend is not actually your boyfriend. You should give Josh a chance, though, you guys should talk it out. You never know.”

Matt looked over at him. “Aren’t you mad? That he – that Pete – aren’t you?”

Patrick hunched in on himself. “It’s not that simple,” he said. “I know how Pete feels about me and I know even when he fools around, he’ll come back.”

Matt boggled. “So you’re _okay_ with him sticking his dick in whatever–”

“I didn’t say that,” Patrick snapped, voice edged in steel. He was facing away from Matt, but Matt could see his jaw clench in profile.

“Sorry,” he said, more genuinely than the first time. “That was out of line. I just-” he broke off, not really sure what to say but feeling like he owed Patrick at least a partial explanation for dissing his boyfriend. “I guess I worry about Josh. He, uh, went through a lot of stuff.”

Patrick looked at him at that, a sidelong glance that cut Matt to the core. “Stuff, huh?” he said in a hollow voice. “Yeah, I know what that’s like. Pete went through “stuff” too, or didn’t you hear the news in 05.” It wasn’t really a question.

“Oh,” Matt said softly. Things started to piece together: there’d been that article in the news, hadn’t there, something about Ativan and a parking lot… He looked back at Patrick, feeling empty, scraped out and hollow. A frisson of understanding seemed to run between them then, and Matt thought, _he understands_ ; it was like the breaking of a dam. With that thought came a tumult of emotions in his chest, too powerful to name. Matt caught his breath, lost in the riptide of memory; he had watched Josh stumble and fall and crash and burn for all those years and the knowledge still hung around him like smoke-smell he couldn’t shake – and now here was Patrick, sitting beside him and looking at him and in that moment, Matt knew that Patrick knew, knew everything; knew what it was like to be terrified of phone calls but to keep his cell phone constantly on; knew what it was to laugh and smile and die inside because the person he loved was wasting away in front of him and there was nothing, nothing he could do –

A warm hand on his shoulder startled him out of his reverie. “Hey,” Patrick said, peering at him over the rim of his glasses, and there was no mistaking the concern in his blue eyes, “That was kind of a heavy topic. You okay?”

“I-” Matt’s gaze flickered up and down Patrick’s face but he couldn’t escape his eyes, watching him with depthless calm. “You understand,” he breathed. It was too much to take in.

“I do,” Patrick said, and then, “You look like you could use a distraction.”

“Probably,” Matt said, and then he didn’t say anything else because Patrick was kissing him. Gently, a little awkward given their positions on the couch, but _nice_ , Matt thought. Patrick tasted like coffee when he licked into Matt’s mouth, a little rough, a little hesitant, and wholly unlike Josh. Matt moaned softly, leaning back so Patrick was pressing him into the couch. Patrick’s lips were soft and chapped against his own, and he kissed differently than Josh; where Josh was all eager tongue and clash of teeth, Patrick kissed him slowly, almost languid, trailing his tongue across Matt’s like they had all the time in the world, and Matt lost himself in the sensation.

Matt was so caught up in Patrick’s tongue (and teeth and lips and also his hands which were slowly making their way under Matt’s clothes) that he didn’t even hear the door open. He did, however, hear the falsely jovial voice saying, “Hey, I see the party started without me.”

“Mnnf!” With a wholly undignified noise that he would later deny ever making, Matt flailed out from under Patrick. Standing in front of them, arms folded across his chest, was none other than Pete Wentz.

_I could take him in a fight_ , Matt thought, body already tensing for combat. But that didn’t seem to be on the table. Instead, Pete flicked dark eyes over to Patrick as he sat up and straightened his hat. An unreadable look passed between them, and then Pete turned to him, offering a hand. With a doubtful glance at Patrick, who merely nodded, Matt took Pete’s hand and Pete hauled him to his feet almost effortlessly – he was stronger than he seemed.

“Uh, thanks,” Matt said, looking between them. He still kind of wanted to punch Pete for his stint with Josh, but considering he’d just been caught necking with Patrick, he thought it better to cut his losses. Though Pete didn’t seem angry in the slightest – if anything, he seemed thoughtful. “I’ll just, uh. Go now.”

“Sure, buddy,” Pete said easily. Matt went.

Josh was lounging in his bunk when Matt entered the Marianas tour bus, fiddling with something on his iPod. He sat up when Matt approached.

“Hey,” he said, but he didn’t get much farther because Matt was all but crawling into his lap and working a hand down his pants. “What-”

“Shut up,” Matt said, already peeling off his own shirt. “Just shut up.”

Josh looked at him, eyes dark and wide with surprise, and for a second, Matt readied himself to pull back – but then Josh surged toward him, mouth hot on his, fingers scrabbling at his jeans, and Matt let go.

Josh was on his back in no time, legs up around Matt’s waist, writhing and moaning in time to the flex of Matt’s fingers inside him. Matt sucked on his neck, ran blunt nails down his side. “Dude,” Josh panted as Matt twisted his fingers just so, “you gotta –ah! – you gotta be careful with the hickeys. Stage, remember?”

“Makeup will fix it,” Matt growled and bit Josh’s shoulder, digging his teeth in enough to bruise, tasting warm flesh.

“Ow! What the hell?” Josh strained his neck back to look at Matt.

Matt rested his forehead on Josh’s shoulder, panting. His muscles were trembling, though whether from arousal or emotion, he couldn’t tell. “Sorry,” he breathed against Josh’s skin.

“Whatever,” Josh said, clenching around Matt’s fingers. “Are you gonna fuck me or what?”

“Yes,” Matt panted and reached for a condom.   

God, Josh was so tight around him, Matt nearly sobbed at the first thrust. He could feel Josh’s muscles trembling around him, and he knew he wasn’t much better off. Matt drew in a ragged breath and began to move, dragging his hips back and snapping forward in a staccato rhythm.

“Hngh,” Josh grunted, squeezing his eyes closed at a particularly vicious thrust. “Matt-” He reached a hand up and brought their lips together in a bruising kiss. Matt lost himself for a minute in the hot slide of Josh’s tongue against his, the familiar taste of Josh’s toothpaste, the feel of his tongue piercing –

Josh pulled back abruptly. “Why do you taste like someone else?”

His voice was rough, still rough _from Pete’s dick_ , and Matt saw red. He slammed his hips forward in answer, making Josh grip the sheets as he cried out. He kissed Josh again, hard and forceful, and didn’t say a word. He fucked Josh hard, rough, and when his nails left red crescents on Josh’s hips, shoulders, all he could think was _mine, mine, you’re mine_.

Josh came with a shout, clenching tight around Matt and shooting all over his stomach. Matt’s legs gave out and he came shortly after, muffling his scream into Josh’s mouth. He pulled out and tied off the condom, tossing it off the edge of the bed.

“Someone’s gonna find that,” Josh mumbled, flicking sweaty hair out of his eyes.

Matt didn’t answer; just stared at him.

“What?” Josh asked, catching his eyes. “Matt, are you-”

Matt kissed him, hard. He pulled back and looked at Josh for a long time. Then he did up his pants and climbed out of the bunk without a word or a backwards glance.

Things got weird after that. Or rather, weirder. It was weird because the more Matt hung out with and got to know Patrick, the more he started to genuinely like him. It was hard not to: once you got underneath the camp, media-approved, public image, Patrick was a genuinely funny guy, always ready to lend a hand or a smile. Matt snapped a string on his guitar half an hour before showtime one night and Patrick magically appeared at his shoulder, holding a replacement. “It’s my backup, it’s already tuned,” he said.

Matt blinked at him. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Patrick smiled, eyes crinkling. “Go get ‘em.”  

So yeah, Patrick seemed cool. But he was basically attached at the hip to Pete, and that… that was more of an issue. Matt had a pretty strict policy of not starting beef with opening bands, but he would very seriously have considered breaking it if it meant he could get his hands around Pete’s neck. Of course, he’d never be able to face Patrick after that, so Matt kept his hands  (and his snide remarks) to himself. Besides, once he got past the whole _you’re the guy fucking the guy who’s not my boyfriend and I hate your guts_ issue… Pete was actually pretty cool in his own right. Wacky, yes; crazy, yes – but after years of living with Josh, Matt was used to the occasional midnight prank war, and even when Pete replaced all his food with condoms, Matt couldn’t help but laugh despite himself.

And then he went to the Fall Out Boy tour bus and soaked all of Pete’s boxers in the sink before shoving them in the freezer.

Things might have been okay, then. If they could have stopped there and ignored all the nights Josh came back to the bus with hooded eyes and mussed hair and swollen lips from people who weren’t Matt, things might have been okay. But of course that wasn’t possible, not when Matt went to store his guitar after a show and found Josh and Pete making out in the storage room. Or when he saw two pairs of feet in one bathroom stall. Or when Josh kept strategically leaning against the counter to avoid sitting down.

The crux came on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, somewhere in New Jersey. Matt was heading to the Fall Out Boy bus to rag on Patrick; he pulled open the door and –

“Mm,” Josh laughed, nuzzling – _nuzzling!_ – into Pete’s neck. Matt stopped in his tracks halfway up the stairs. From his vantage point, he could just see them tangled together on the couch. They hadn’t seen him yet, that much was obvious. Pete was sitting on the couch with his feet up on the table, one arm slung comfortably around Josh’s shoulders, the other playing with Josh’s hand in his lap. _Holding hands_ , Matt thought numbly, _they’re holding hands._ The air rushed from his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. Even from his position, he could see the smile playing across Josh’s face, soft and easy, the smile he got when he let his guard down. Matt clenched his fists against the jealousy that rolled in his gut like nausea. They looked – they looked happy.

He turned and left the bus. He couldn’t look Josh in the eye for a week.

Patrick grabbed him one night after a show, taking him by the elbow and tugging him into an old storage room under the stage.

“Why aren’t you talking to Josh?”

“What,” Matt said, because he was definitely talking to Josh. He had asked Josh to pass the cereal just that morning. And he had managed to do so without flinching at the memory of Josh’s mouth on Pete’s dick. Go him.

“You know what I mean,” Patrick narrowed his eyes. “You say words to him, but you’re not talking to him.”

Matt shrugged out of Patrick’s hold. “How the fuck do you know if I’m talking to him or not?” he retorted, denial making him tense.

Patrick glanced away and licked his lips. “Pete told me.”

Pete. Fucking great. Cause that was what Matt really needed right now, his best friend abandoning him for Pete fucking Wentz. Bitterness churned in his gut like bile and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging sharp into his palms.

Something in his demeanour must have tipped Patrick off, however, because he put a cautious hand on Matt’s arm again.

“Look,” he said, “think of it this way. You know how you and I understand each other because we’ve been through the same shit?”

“Yeah,” Matt said. “What about it?”

“Did it ever occur to you that Pete and Josh have been through similar things?”

“Oh,” Matt said, softly. The world seemed to shift subtly beneath his feet as Patrick’s words sunk in. He felt suddenly light-headed and off-balance, teetering and out of breath. Patrick’s words chased themselves in dizzying circles around his brain, _we understand each other, they understand each other_ , spiraling inexorably toward the gut-wrenching conclusion, _he doesn’t need you_.

It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

And then even breathing was a secondary concern because he was surging up against Patrick in a clash of tongue and teeth and who needed to breathe anyway when Patrick’s lips were soft and yielding under his.

“Mmmf!” said Patrick, stumbling backwards. “Matt, what the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Matt panted, reaching for him again, “I just – can you just –”

Patrick planted one hand in the middle of his chest, stopping his advances. “I don’t judge, man, but if this is some weird rebound thing because of Pete and Josh, I kinda need to know.”

“It definitely is,” Matt breathed.

“Okay,” Patrick said, nodding to himself, “cool.” And then he was kissing Matt again and Matt stopped thinking for a little while. He drowned himself in the heat of Patrick’s hands and mouth and body, used it to tether himself to something real.

“Sorry,” Patrick mumbled as his nails scraped down Matt’s skin under his shirt, but Matt just leaned into the touch, craving the pain, craving the release.

“Do it again.”

That’s how they ended up fucking against a wall – _fucking_ because there was nothing tender, nothing caring or soft about it. There was nothing but the raw burn as Patrick fingered him open and shoved roughly inside of him, the thin coating of lube on the condom doing nothing to stop tears springing to Matt’s eyes. That was fine; he wanted it to hurt.

“Harder,” he grunted, bracing himself on his forearms as Patrick fucked into him against the gritty concrete, nails digging red into Matt’s hips.

Matt gasped and writhed against the pain, muscles trembling at the burn; sweat was soaking his skin and tears were streaking his face but he didn’t care, he needed this. His world was crumbling because Josh – his best friend for over a decade, his bandmate, his _Josh_ – didn’t need him anymore, and Matt didn’t know how to cope with the enormity of that fear. But this, this pain, was real, and this Matt could handle.

He came with a muffled shout as Patrick reached around and pumped his cock roughly, fucking Matt through the aftershocks. At last, his hips stilled and he came with a quiet grunt, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Matt’s shoulder.

“Fuck.”

Matt didn’t have anything to say to that.

Patrick pulled out – gently, but Matt still winced at the movement – and tossed the condom aside. “You okay?”

Matt fumbled for his pants as he caught his breath, keeping his gaze down. “I-I don’t know. But… thanks.”

Patrick snorted. “Pretty sure I should thank you. I think you got the raw end of the deal.”

“No, I – I needed that,” Matt admitted, swiping a hand across his eyes. “It – thanks.”

Patrick eyed him for a long moment before stretching out a careful hand to brush Matt’s hair back from his forehead. Matt’s eyes fluttered closed and just for a moment he allowed himself to lean into the touch and pretend it was okay. Then Patrick pulled back and the spell was broken.

“Are you gonna find Josh?”

Matt looked away and swallowed. “Yeah,” he admitted, not at all surprised at how easily Patrick could read him.

“Okay,” Patrick said simply, and Matt could have kissed him for understanding. He did, quick and chaste, a reminder of Patrick’s taste dancing on his lips to ground him.

It wasn’t hard to guess where Josh would be. Matt stumbled out of the venue on unsteady legs, heading for the Marianas bus. Rain dripped down from the grey sky, mixing with the sweat cooling on his skin. Matt passed techs and bystanders in a daze, too caught up in his own thoughts to pay attention to the outside world. Matt moved past the storage truck, and even the soreness in his muscles from Patrick wasn’t enough to quell the memory of the one time he and Josh had snuck off after a show for a quickie in behind the guitar cases. He remembered when Josh had first proposed the idea to him, this whole thing they were doing – relieving tension, whatever; how Josh had said _this can’t fuck up the band, Matt_. _If we do this, you have to promise me that we won’t fuck up the band._ And Matt had nodded and promised and been true to that promise. Even now he was true to that promise, because Josh could sleep with whomever the fuck he wanted and Matt wasn’t letting it fuck up the band. But it was fucking them up. It was fucking up him and Josh.

Matt didn’t even notice that he’d arrived at the bus. He pulled open the door and climbed the stairs before he could think better of it.

Josh was, oddly enough, alone in the front lounge. He looked up as Matt approached him with guarded footsteps.

“Hey,” Josh said cautiously, “what’s up?”

Matt just looked at him. Josh shifted from where he was sprawled across the couch, pulling his legs in to make space beside him. “Sitting down?”

Matt said nothing but thumped over and sat gingerly in the proffered seat, mindful of his abused muscles. Josh looked at him again, almost warily, as if he was afraid Matt would bolt at any moment. _As if I’m the skittish one_ , Matt thought, but he clamped his jaw shut on the words.

Instead, he said as blandly as he could manage, “I thought you’d be with Pete.”

To his credit, Josh didn’t flinch at the subtle accusation. He shifted to face Matt properly on the couch, peering at him from under his fringe. “You wanna talk about it, Matty?”

Matt bit his lip at the nickname, feeling the familiar blush crawl up the back of his neck at the thread of affection in Josh’s tone. “It’s not really my business, is it?” he asked, hearing the petulant whine in his voice and hating himself for it.

Josh exhaled sharply through his nose. “Matt, you mean the world to me.”

Matt’s head snapped up at that. “I know,” he said, because stupidly enough, he did know; he knew that like the back of his hand, like he knew the lyrics to their songs, like he knew the strings on a guitar. He couldn’t escape that fact; he wouldn’t want to.

“Okay,” Josh said, nodding at him, “and Pete also means a lot to me.”

Matt’s stomach gave a sickening lurch. “Is this because he understands you better – better than I do?” _Are you replacing me?_ he screamed in his head.

“Yes,” Josh said, and Matt died inside, “but no. It’s not what you think. Matt, I think he’d be good for us.”

The world stopped turning.

“Us,” Matt repeated through numb lips. “Us.”

“Yeah?” Josh said, voice turning up at the end though it wasn’t really a question. “Wait, is that what…”

He trailed off, and Matt didn’t answer. But he knew then that Josh got it, understood what Matt had been trying to say, what he’d been so hung up on ever since they’d started this stupid thing of jerking each other off in bathrooms cause it was cheaper than prostitutes and less skeevy than fans. Josh looked at him and Matt knew, he _knew_ that Josh got it, that he finally saw where Matt was coming from.

And then Matt didn’t have time to think because Josh was sliding a hand out to grip the back of his head and pull him in close. His palm was warm against Matt’s rain-damp skin. Matt’s breath caught in his throat as Josh rested their foreheads together. His first instinct was to struggle, to bat Josh’s hand away and laugh like nothing had happened. But just resting there, his head against Josh’s, breathing in the same air… Matt felt something quiet settle in his chest, as if a hole he hadn’t even been aware of was finally filled.

“Isn’t this a little gay, dude?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Josh said, “but so are we.”

Matt couldn’t find it in himself to argue with that. He licked his lips and swallowed, knowing what he needed to say but not knowing how. “Josh, you know I – you know I – you know.”

“Yeah, Matty,” Josh breathed, pulling back to look at him, smiling in the way that made Matt’s heart melt, “yeah, I know. Same here, okay.”

And Matt opened his mouth to respond but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered because Josh was kissing him, really kissing him, slow and sweet, a lazy tangle of tongues that Matt could spend all day unraveling. Josh ran his tongue lightly over Matt’s and Matt’s heart fluttered in his chest because Josh had never kissed him like this before, never kissed him like he meant it. With the last vestiges of rational thought not swamped by pleasure, Matt made a mental note to get Patrick a really nice card, as a _thank you for my boyfriend_ thing.

But then the unthinkable happened. Josh pulled back from the kiss. Matt chased after his lips before falling back against the sofa, defeated. Josh glanced down then back up, fiddling with his bracelets and Matt’s stomach sank because Josh only did that during conversations he didn’t want to be having.

Josh rubbed his hands together and spoke, “Look, Matt, I-”

“You should have told me sooner,” Matt blurted out before he could stop himself.

Josh jerked his head up to stare at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“We didn’t talk about it,” Matt stammered, voice shaking, but he couldn’t stop, he was on a roll now, “We never talked about it, but you should have told me sooner, I mean, what do you - how the fuck do you think it felt to walk in there and see you and Pete – see that?”

“Fuck, I know,” Josh scrubbed roughly at his face, “I know, and I’m sorry – but that’s why I’m asking, Matty. I. You and Pete, I just think we could be…”

Josh trailed off. Silence stretched like a live wire through the air and Matt realized he was witnessing the great Josh Ramsay at a loss for words; and that was crazy, that wasn’t right at all, and the silence was killing him, so Matt opened his mouth and said the first words that came to mind: “And Patrick.”

Josh blinked at him and swallowed. Matt held his breath and counted the seconds until Josh spoke. “And Patrick.”

And that was how Matt found himself sandwiched between Josh and Patrick, with his face mashed uncomfortably into Pete’s chest after a marathon round of energetic working-all-our-issues-out-without-actually-talking-about-them sex. They were rockstars, after all, and just occasionally, the profession lived up to its name.

After that, things didn’t change, per se. There was no big, sparkly sign hanging above Matt’s head screaming _I AM IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH THREE OTHER DUDES_ (he’d checked). But there were little things. Little things like learning how Pete took his coffee (black, with enough sugar to induce a diabetic coma) during a morning Starbucks run; and learning the way Patrick flinched reflexively every time someone stole his hat. Or how Matt pulled on a pair of Pete’s jeans before a show and nearly laughed himself sick watching Josh try to stop staring on stage. 

It was in the little things, like the fact that Pete actually really liked to cuddle (“Cuddleslut,” Josh teased him, and then Patrick blustered his way through a lecture about slut-shaming, and Josh said, “Sorry,” and “cuddlefucker” and Pete tackled him to the bed and beat him with a pillow); the little things like Patrick’s fascination with the daily crosswords, and how Josh had teased him at first and written DICKS in all the boxes – but now they sat together habitually on the couch, Josh hanging his chin over Patrick’s shoulder as they muddled through clues that neither Matt nor Pete would ever have the patience for. It was in the little things and the weird habits, like how Pete was only ever really attached to personal hygiene when insomnia struck, and sometimes he and Josh would trade handjobs in the shower if they were both awake at three a.m.; and how Matt was the only morning person in the bunch, so he’d go for a run to stave off the boredom, and yeah, it was really nice to come back to not one but three warm bodies.

Matt got really, really good at giving blowjobs.

It wasn’t an instant honeymoon. There were still rough times. Sometimes, Matt worried about what people thought of them, how it would seem from an outside perspective on the days when Patrick forgot himself and walked out wearing one of Matt’s hoodies, or when Pete borrowed (read: stole) Josh’s favourite candy apple pants for a show that had the fans screaming like the world was going to end. Sometimes, there were arguments over douchebag comments, or ridiculous bathroom wait-times, or over eating the last bit of Nutella. But the make-up sex was fantastic, so Matt couldn’t even bring himself to mind so much. The good times far outnumbered the bad, at any rate, and there was nothing quite as wonderful as the warmth that spread through Matt’s chest when he was nestled between Pete and Patrick on the couch, with Josh’s head in his lap, one hand playing idly with Josh’s hair. Matt laughed as Josh reached up and tickled his side. Pete nuzzled his neck and Patrick reached around his shoulders to tangle a hand in Pete’s hair, and Matt couldn’t stop smiling because this felt like home.

Matt couldn’t remember how it started but he knew he wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

 


End file.
